


Prior Commitments

by vilia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Cancer, Emotional Infidelity, Even the wives ship it, Merthur endgame, Minor Character Death, Miscarriage, Multi, No Physical Infidelity, Non-graphic medical procedures, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilia/pseuds/vilia
Summary: Arthur doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just met his ideal partner. Trouble is, they’re both already married to other people.
Relationships: Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 145





	1. The Anniversary

Arthur was in the middle of reviewing last month’s financial report when his phone chirped with a reminder.

“Huh.”

It was his anniversary again tomorrow. He’d completely forgotten. Before he and Gwen got married, he’d had no trouble remembering the anniversary of their first date, but that was more than a decade ago. Now he needed his phone to remind him of his wedding.

 _Maybe I’m getting old_.

He sighed. That wasn’t the reason, and he knew it. He was only 28 after all.

His father had been firmly against him marrying before he finished university, but he’d been certain it was the right thing to do. So certain. He’d been completely in love with Gwen before leaving for uni and when they started drifting apart, even though they were attending the same school, the solution seemed simple. Sometimes, he wished she’d said no.

 _We’re just in a rut._ He hoped more than he believed that it was true. He’d been using that mantra for years now.

There had to be something he could do though. A bit of novelty might help. They should try something they’ve never done before. It was too late for reservations at an exclusive restaurant, or… Well, nothing else immediately came to mind, but he could think on it later. He had to finish reviewing this report at the moment anyway, and he wasn’t being paid to ruminate on his personal life.

~*~*~*~

The next day, another reminder alerted Arthur of his faulty memory.

“Damn it.”

He hadn’t planned anything. He hadn’t even got Gwen a card. Now he was pulling into the garage more than an hour late—though that wasn’t unusual—and empty handed. He stepped in the door, mind racing for a reasonable excuse. Maybe if he said he’d left her present at work or that he’d ordered it online ages ago but it still hadn’t arrived…

He found Gwen sitting in the living room, going through a box of fabric.

She barely glanced up from her work. “Hi, Arthur.”

He stood there, waiting to be called out. But she hadn’t realized, hadn’t figured out yet that he was a bad husband.

“I thought we might phone for a takeaway tonight,” she said, still working away on her project. “I’m in the middle of this and don’t really want to stop to cook.”

“No, of course.” Arthur furrowed his brow. Gwen wasn’t the type to be passive-aggressive. He briefly considered offering to cook himself, then said, “The Grapevine?” listing off the nicest restaurant he could think of that would deliver.

“Oh, I was thinking something less expensive.” She was still engrossed in her project. “Maybe that place over by the park if you’re really in the mood for Italian. Do you mind ordering?”

“No, I’ll uh…” It couldn’t be that she’d forgotten too… “I’ll just do that right now.” Could it?

They ate dinner in relative quiet, reviewing only the most basic of information about their day. Gwen was excited to be working on a new project that she thought she could adapt for her students, but the whole meal went by, and Arthur still didn’t know what exactly she was doing. Arthur told her he’d had a productive day but that their latest financial report wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. They were going to need to step up fundraising efforts over the next six months if they were going to meet their goals before the weather turned cold, but he spared Gwen the details. Or rather, if he were being honest, he spared himself the explanation.

After dinner, Gwen went back to working on her project, and Arthur sat in the chair opposite with a book. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he felt guilty. Not just about their anniversary, but about the state of their marriage in general.

Two days later, Arthur was already in bed—not yet fully asleep, but with his eyes closed—when Gwen climbed in, courteously keeping to her side. She reached over to turn off the lamp on her bedside table, laid back, and situated her blankets to her liking. Everything went quiet. Nearly a minute later, she jerked up into a sitting position with a conspicuous gasp.

“Our anniversary!”

“Hmm?” he said, because he really had been half asleep.

“No wonder you were acting so strange. I’m so sorry!”

“Oh.” He’d been hoping she wouldn’t noticed for so long that they could ignore the whole issue and won’t have to have this conversation.

“There’s really no excuse,” she said, as she turned her lamp back on, “but I have been… distracted this week.”

Arthur rubbed at his eyes.

“Oh?” He didn’t really care what reason she had, but he would humour her.

“I… I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Arthur sat up straight, looked from the blankets to his wife’s face, concern for her outweighing any reservations he had over the state of their marriage. “Are you sick?”

“No, but I… I think I might…”

This was something big, Arthur could tell.

“Arthur, I think I might be pregnant.”

Pregnant… Arthur would never have suspected. If she really was, the conception date was going to be easy to pin down. They rarely ever had sex anymore. The last time must have been about six weeks ago, purely because it had been Valentine’s Day, and it had felt like they ought to.

“Pregnant…” he said, still trying to process this turn of events. After finishing their schooling and settling into their jobs, they’d tried for a baby for several years with no success. Eventually, they’d decided it was just never going to happen and had moved on from the idea. He’d always known it was a possibility. Gwen didn’t take birth control, and he didn’t bother with condoms, but it was still a bit of a shock.

“I’m pretty sure. All the signs are there, and the at-home test was positive. What do you think? I know you said you were okay with never having children…”

“Give me a minute.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to think. A part of him had long ago accepted that one of the reasons he’d given up so easily on the idea of a family was the reservations he had about his ability to be a good father. Uther wasn’t exactly a good role model. What if he wasn’t any better? Then again, he thought he saw where Uther had gone wrong, thought he could avoid the same pitfalls. As he began to imagine what life would be like with a son or daughter, he found he wanted the chance to try.

A tentative smile crept up on Arthur’s face. Gwen must have been scrutinizing his expressions, because it was only moments after he came to his realization that she was surging forward to wrap him up in a hug.

“Oh, Arthur! Isn’t this wonderful?”

He squeezed her back.

“Yeah.” A little, light hearted laugh bubbled up from his throat. “It really is.”

Their excitement lasted four and a half weeks.


	2. The Mobile

The man seated across from Arthur in the hospital waiting room hadn’t turned a single page in his book the entire time Arthur had been here. He checked his phone. It had been 25 minutes already. The bloke was either the slowest reader on the planet, or he felt every bit as nervous as he looked. Every once and a while, he would reach for the bottle of water at his feet, but his hand would tremble, and he’d sit back up without having taken a sip.

Arthur probably shouldn’t be watching the man so intently, but it was that, read one of the magazines that sat on the table between them, or look at his phone. The magazines were too boring to hold his attention, and if he pulled out his phone, he’d be sucked into work. He didn’t have the emotional energy for that at the moment.

It could be that the nervous man simply provided a convenient distraction from his own problems, but it felt like more than that. There was something… captivating about him. Something Arthur couldn’t put into words. He found himself wondering who the man was waiting for and hoping that they would be all right.

Then he felt guilty. Here he was worrying about some random stranger he’d never even seen instead of worrying about his wife. That probably made him a bad husband, because she was the one he was waiting here for. He felt confident she was going to be okay though. The doctors knew what they were doing, and he trusted them to do their job. It wasn’t as if the procedure were rare. He’d actually been surprised to find just how common it was. As many as one in four pregnancies ends in a miscarriage according to the brochure they’d been given, and women experiencing a miscarriage couldn’t always do it all on their own. The D&C Gwen was having now would fix that. Sometimes the procedure was even done on an outpatient basis, so no, he wasn’t worried about the D&C, but the miscarriage itself… That was something else entirely. Gwen had been pregnant. If everything had gone properly, he’d have been a father by November.

A horrible, sick churning festered in his stomach. He’d been planning his future out with this soon to be baby. He’d been thinking through names and imagining what it would be like to have a child staring up at him like he’s the strongest man in the world. He’d spend his spare moments daydreaming about teaching his son or daughter to play footie or the basics—colours and shapes, the various sounds that animals make. How to say “daddy” and “I love you.” It had been so real, so immediate, for the few weeks they’d known. Then, in an instant, that future was gone. And now they were back to where they had been before, with Arthur looking ahead and feeling numb.

He tried focusing back on the here and now. Was he just imagining it, or was it unusually warm in here? He looked around, found a woman sitting by herself on the other side of the room stripping off her jumper for the comfort of the thin T-shirt underneath.

 _Good. Not just me then_.

Arthur tugged at the collar of his shirt a few times, wishing he’d worn something a little lighter. He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, caught his eye on the nervous man again. He wore long sleeves as well, but instead of employing Arthur’s method, which was working better than he’d expected, the man used one of the magazines left on the table between them to fan himself.

The man looked up suddenly, catching Arthur in the act of staring. He expected a glare. Instead, something in the way the man held himself seemed to relax a fraction, and he said, “Who are you waiting for?” The man had a rich voice, deeper than Arthur’d expected.

“My wife.”

“Me too.”

“I hope it’s nothing to serious,” Arthur said, knowing he might be stepping on a landmine. 

“Brain cancer.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. She doesn’t look it, but Freya’s incredibly strong. When she was first diagnosed, her doctor only gave her six months. It’s been three years. Maybe this surgery will give her another three. What about your wife?”

“It’s a uh, D&C,” Arthur said, hoping he wasn’t going to have to explain what that meant.

“Miscarriage?”

Arthur barely even needed to nod.

“That must be hard. How are you holding up?”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to answer. No one else had asked how he felt about it. Not a lot of people knew, that was true, but everyone that had called just asked after Gwen. And of course, Arthur expected them to be more concerned with her. That was the way it should be. She was the one that had to deal with all the physical aspects, but until now, not a single person had thought to ask Arthur if he was okay too. As if he weren’t allowed to be upset.

And he was upset. Disappointed. Heartbroken. And horribly grateful, in an uneasy, guilt-inducing way because he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that if it had to happen, he was glad that it happened now. As hard as it was, it would have been even worse in a few months. Better now, he thought, than a stillbirth. Better now than to lose a child he’d been able to hold. He felt disgusted with himself for even trying to find a silver lining in such a bleak situation.

“I, erm…”

“Sorry. You don’t have to answer. Just tell me to shut up if I’m bothering you. I won’t be offended.”

“No, no, I was… thinking, is all.” Arthur generally wasn’t a big fan of talking about his feelings, but somehow, with this stranger, it felt like it was okay to share. “It’s been rough, losing the pregnancy. It hadn’t been planned, but I was still looking forward to being a father.” Maybe it was because he _was_ a stranger. “And you’re not bothering me. It’s nice to talk to someone instead of just stewing in my own thoughts.”

“I think so, too.” The man leaned forward, offering a handshake. “I’m Merlin, by the way.”

“Arthur.”

Arthur always judged people on the quality of their handshake. It was something his father had taught him when he was a teenager, and he’d never been able to unlearn it. Merlin’s grip was firm, without being too tight, he made the right amount of eye contact, their hands fit together with full palm contact… Even Uther wouldn’t have been able to find fault.

After the handshake, Merlin picked up his phone, glanced at the screen, and sat it right back down on the seat next to him. “Your wife’s procedure should be done by now.”

“You seem to know a lot about it. I’m impressed.”

“I’m a nurse. I did a brief stint in a women’s clinic when I was still in training.”

“How much longer should Freya be in surgery?”

“She should have been out more than an hour ago.”

Arthur didn’t know how to be comforting in these kinds of situations. He tried redirecting the conversation. “It must be nice that you’re a nurse. You know how to care for her more than most others in your situation.”

“It has been helpful. But it also means I understand the risks better than most. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.”

Arthur wanted to keep the conversation going, but didn’t know what to say. Then Merlin stood, looking off to Arthur’s left. Arthur followed his gaze and found a doctor approaching. To Arthur’s disappointment, the woman didn’t say anything about Freya’s condition other than the fact that she was out of surgery.

She said, “If you’ll come with me, Mr. Emrys, I’ll give you all the details.” 

Merlin gathered up his water bottle and book and headed off to speak with the doctor in private. Arthur watched him go, a little sympathetic nervousness fluttering through his chest on Merlin’s behalf. The man was completely out of view before Arthur noticed that he’d left his mobile behind. Arthur slipped it into his back pocket, intending to drop it off at the front desk before he left, but then Gwen’s doctor came and with all his thoughts redirected back to his wife, he forgot all about it.

The news from the doctor was all good, just as Arthur had expected, and when he got to see Gwen again, she seemed in good spirits—though she notably didn’t say a word about the child they wouldn’t be having in six months. Arthur went along with it. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about it anymore either.

At home, Gwen wanted to rest on the sofa, watch a little TV. Arthur stole her pillow and her favourite blanket off their bed to help make her more comfortable. He made her a light dinner in the evening, made sure she’d taken her antibiotics, then sat with her through the same sappy romance that she always watched when she wanted something that didn’t require much mental effort. When she fell asleep halfway through the movie, she looked comfortable enough that Arthur didn’t see the point in waking her. He went off to bed on his own.

It wasn’t until he was stripping out of his jeans that he remembered Merlin’s phone. He pulled up the lock screen and found that Merlin had missed several calls, all from the same number. The phone was set to Do Not Disturb, so Arthur hadn’t even noticed the calls as they came in.

The next morning, Arthur called the missed number and spoke to an elderly man named Gaius. Once he had explained how he knew Merlin and that he simply wanted to return the phone to its rightful owner, the man gave Arthur Merlin’s address. He wasn’t even a half hour away, so that afternoon, Arthur drove Merlin’s phone over to his house. After finding the place—the last in a row of terraced houses—Arthur sat out in his car staring at it, wondering if he’d made the right choice in coming here. Maybe he should take the mobile back to the hospital instead or send it in the post.

This was weird, right? That he’d tracked Merlin down to return his phone?

No, not weird. Kind. Maybe even a little chivalrous. Going out of his way to help a virtual stranger and all that. He needed to stop thinking about it and just get out of his damn car. What did he really expect was going to happen? He would go up to the door and knock, explain in two sentences or less what had happened, then he’d say goodbye and that would be the end.

 _Right_ , he told himself, as if he needed to bolster his courage for this. Before he changed his mind, he got out of the car, strode up to the Merlin’s front door, and knocked. He’d intentionally come during the off hours for hospital visiting, but that was no guarantee that he would be home. He could be at work or out running an errand. He could be at the supermarket for all Arthur knew.

Arthur immediately began questing his judgement again. Merlin was going to wonder why he hadn’t left the phone with the hospital staff. Surely they had a lost and found. He could just turn around right now, no harm done. He’d almost convinced himself when Merlin opened the door.

The confused look on the man’s face was not a surprise. Arthur was quick to explain himself, said, “You forgot this yesterday,” and produced the mobile. “I didn’t want to risk someone stealing it.”

“Oh,” Merlin reached out and took the contraption from Arthur’s hand. Their fingers accidentally brushed for a split second, and Merlin yanked his hand back as if Arthur had burned him. Definitely not a good sign.

Before he could get too angry with himself for ever thinking this was a good idea, Merlin surprised him. 

“I hadn’t even realized it was missing yet; I’ve been that preoccupied. Thank you!” and he sounded as if he truly meant it.

Arthur felt a pleasant little flush of self-satisfaction pulse through his chest. He meant to say that it was no big deal, but the words that came out of his mouth were as simple, “You’re welcome.”

At this, Merlin actually smiled at him. It was the first such expression he’d seen from the man. It suited him quite well. Arthur heaved a sigh of relief that Merlin was grateful instead of creeped out.

Arthur returned the smile, gave a little nod and began turning to leave, his good deed complete for the day. Merlin stopped him in his tracks. “Would you like to stay for a minute? I just put the kettle on.”

Arthur wavered, looking back at Merlin’s hopeful expression.

“It’d be nice to talk a bit more. Maybe about something a bit less depressing than yesterday. I have biscuits.”

Arthur chuckled, said, “Well, biscuits… How can I say no to that?” and stepped through the threshold.

Merlin lead him through a living room decorated with an abundance of flowers and a large abstract painting that made Arthur think of the sea or some vast lake. They passed through a doorway into a small kitchen with south facing windows. The afternoon sun streamed in, lending a comfortable warmth to the space. The sink was full of dirty dishes, but the worktop was clean and tidy.

Arthur pulled back a chair back from the small table that sat in the middle of the space, its legs protesting softly as it scrapped against the floor, and took a seat. Merlin riffled through a few cabinets, getting out an extra cup, more tea, and a tin of biscuits. He set the biscuits on the table, and took the chair opposite to Arthur.

“I know I promised something a little more cheerful but I have to ask, how are you feeling today? A miscarriage isn’t something you get over just because the medical side of things is out of the way.”

“I’m…” Arthur was going to lie, say he was fine. Because that’s the sort of answer that’s expected, especially with someone you don’t know. Even when they both know it’s not true. Arthur couldn’t bring himself to do it. He said, “It’s a struggle. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’d already started to think about names. It was a bit premature, I know, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Merlin’s expression held just the right amount of sympathy for Arthur’s taste, and he liked that Merlin didn’t pass any judgement or try and cheer him up, was grateful not to have to hear that well-meaning, but misguided suggestion that he’d heard from others about how they could always try for another baby.

“And your wife…? Sorry. I don’t think you mentioned her name.”

“Gwen.”

“Ah.”

“She’s good. I mean, as well as can be, I suppose. Physically. But we’d both been pretty excited at the prospect of becoming parents, so… It’ll take some time.” Arthur wasn’t sure if he should say any more. It was nice of Merlin to ask, and he felt pretty certain that the man really did care for some unfathomable reason, but he was equally confident that Merlin didn’t really want to hear Arthur drone on and on about his problems. He said, “How’s Freya?”

“I’m not sure when she’s going to be allowed to come home yet.”

“Oh…”

“No, it’s all right. The doctors say it went well. They were able to remove more of the tumour than they’d expected. That’s why the surgery took so long.”

“That’s great, then.”

“Yeah…” Merlin took a sip of his tea, though it still looked too hot to drink. “But I don’t want to dwell on that today. I thought maybe we could… I don’t know. Have a normal conversation, I guess.”

“You don’t think this is normal?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Arthur picked up a biscuit, but didn’t take a bite, just held onto it like an anchor. “I do.”

“So, Arthur… What is it that you do when you’re not returning lost property to absent minded acquaintances?”

“I uh, I run a charity.”

“Really?” Merlin leaned forward a little. “What sort?”

“We’re working to end homelessness. We’ve got a shelter and a couple of special programs. We’re about to kick off a new one for veterans, but our main focus has always been working with LGBT youth.”

Merlin looked dubious. Arthur was used to that sort of response from his father. He hadn’t expected it from Merlin. It served him right though. He’d known it was a mistake to stay.

“Are you kidding?”

Arthur didn’t bother trying to conceal his defensiveness. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know? To impress me?”

“You find that impressive?” Now Arthur was the dubious one.

Merlin looked at him like he was a complete idiot. “Of course I do. I thought you were a hero for returning my mobile and here you’re literally out on the streets helping people that our society has neglected to rebuild their lives. I think that might be one of the most noble things I’ve ever heard.”

Arthur felt a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Sure it is. You’re like a saint.”

“I’m really not. Just ask my wife. I can be a real arse sometimes. Selfish. Inconsiderate. Ill-tempered.”

Merlin didn’t seem worried. He shrugged, said, “Well, no one’s perfect. I knew you had to have a flaw or two hidden somewhere.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but Merlin only grinned at him.

“No, but seriously, why on earth would you assume that I—or anyone for that matter—would think poorly of you for running a charity?”

Arthur heaved out a sigh. He didn’t usually like to get into the topic of his father with people he didn’t know very well. It made him sound a little messed up, and maybe that was because he was. If Merlin had been any other random acquaintance, this would be the time he deflected onto some other topic. Instead, he said, “Because my father is constantly telling me that I shouldn’t be wasting my time there. By his book, the truest measures of success are wealth and power. He likes to say that there’s no problem worth solving that can’t be solved with capitalism.”

“Wow, don’t take this the wrong way, but your dad sounds like a prick. What amazing career did he want you to pursue instead? Follow in his footsteps, I assume?”

“How’d you guess?”

“It’s a bit of a cliché, Arthur. You would have been one too if you’d let him rule your life. Good for you for doing your own thing.”

It shouldn’t matter to him what Merlin thought. He was a virtual stranger, after all, but in spite of the irrationality of it, a little surge of pride bubbled up in Arthur’s chest. Next time his father harassed him about his job, Arthur was going to remember this moment. He allowed himself a little smile, finally took a bite of his biscuit.

“Tell me about the rest of your family,” Merlin said. “Any siblings?”

“One sister. Well, half-sister, technically. Morgana. She’s the one that inspired me to work with the homeless.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“When I was 14 and Morgana was 16, she ran away from home. I didn’t know this at the time, but she’d just come out to our father. They had a massive fight and though he didn’t exactly kick her out, she didn’t feel comfortable living under his roof anymore. She stayed with friends at first, but once their parents found out, they tried sending her home. She decided she would rather sleep rough than go home.

“She was gone more than a year. We had no idea where she was. The police were looking for her. It was a mess. I spent all the time I could after school and on the weekends out on the streets trying to track her down.”

Merlin leaned forward, arms on the table. “So what happened? Did you find her yourself?”

“I did. Dad had softened up, wanted to reconcile. Morgana was still bitter, refused to come home. So I just did the best I could—helped her find a safe place to stay, a job. She went back to school, got on with her life.”

“Wow. Arthur. That’s amazing. You were both just kids.”

Arthur shrugged. His role in the whole thing sounded more significant than it really was. He hadn’t done all that much more than to connect her with resources that she hadn’t known were available. More important was that the experience had shown him the kinds of holes that existing assistance programs had that allowed kids like Morgana to slip through the cracks, and that had inspired him to do it better.

“So how about you, Merlin? What’s your family like?”

“I don’t really… I mean, it’s just Freya for the most part. My mum died when I was 19, and my dad left before I was even born. Never had any siblings.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. I do have a great uncle that I’m kind of close with. I used to spend my summer holidays at his house when I was a kid. He’s getting on a bit though, so it’s hard for him to travel down for a visit, and with Freya’s health the way it is… But anyway. We still talk on the phone a couple times a month.”

“Is your uncle’s name Gaius?”

“How did you know?”

“I wasn’t sure how to get your phone back to you, but you’d had a missed call from someone called Gaius so I just rang him back. He gave me your address after I explained things. I meant to tell you earlier, actually. I was afraid you’d think I was some creep that followed you home or something.”

Merlin tossed his head back in an unrestrained laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur wasn’t sure why, but he thought he might be vaguely offended.

“The thought of you doing anything nefarious against me? I just—” He shook his head, laughing again.

Arthur scowled. “You don’t think I could be intimidating? I guarantee I’m stronger than you.”

“You think?”

Arthur spluttered. “Yes! Definitely!”

“I’m taller.”

“By an inch, _maybe_. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“So… what?” Merlin said, “Do you want to arm wrestle or something to prove it?”

“Maybe I do!”

Merlin had trouble settling down, couldn’t stop grinning. “I’m not arm wrestling you.”

Now Arthur was smiling too. He leaned back in his chair, feeling like he’d won a victory. “You’re just scared. You know I’d win.”

“I think I’m starting to see what you meant about your flaws.”

“Hey!”

Merlin nudged the tin of biscuits in Arthur’s direction. “Here. Have another, Arthur.”

Arthur accepted the peace offering and fell back into easy conversation. It wasn’t until Merlin checked his phone and said, “Shoot. Visiting hours start soon. I need to be getting back to the hospital,” that Arthur realized they’d been talking for more than two hours.

He stood. “Oh, sorry. I hadn’t noticed it was so late. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your day.”

“No, no. It’s no problem,” Merlin said, standing up and seeing Arthur to the door. “I have to thank you. First you return my phone, then you give me a chance to interact with a real-life adult without having to worry about work or medical problems. You’re a real hero to me right now.”

“If you need more time like this,” Arthur said, pausing in the open doorway and turning back to Merlin, “you should come to the Crown & Oak next Friday night.” A slight flush rose up on Arthur’s cheeks. That had come out wrong. It almost sounded like he was asking Merlin on a date. He hastened to explain. “Me and a couple of my mates get together there just about every other week after work. I’m sure you’d get on with them.”

“That sounds nice actually. Freya and I, we’re originally from Wales.”

“I can tell from your accent.”

“Yeah. Can’t manage to shake it.” Merlin gave a hint of a grin that almost made him look shy for a moment. “Anyway. We came here soon after her diagnosis to be closer to her specialist. Neither of us has had much time to make new friends and as hard as we try to keep in touch with friends back home, sometimes it’s nice to talk to a real live person.”

“You know, Gwen is always trying to set up dinners with other couples. I’ve not been too keen on the idea, but they make her happy. She gets these fancy recipes, spends hours arranging flowers for the table centerpiece… If Freya can manage it when she’s recovered from surgery, you should come over. You’d be saving me from another awkward meal with one of her co-workers and their spouse.”

“Freya would love that.” The corner of Merlin’s mouth tugged up in a subtle smile. “I think I might manage to not have a completely horrible time, too.”

“Good. Let me give you my number. Send me a text when Freya is up to it, and we’ll work out the details.”

After the miscarriage, Arthur hadn’t expected that he’d find anything worth looking forward to for a long time, but here he was, typing his contact information into Merlin’s phone, hoping it wouldn’t be long before he and Merlin could get together again and talk.


	3. The Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole fic is bound to contain plot convenient medical inaccuracies. Usually I do more research and try to get things right, adjusting the plot as required, but I just didn’t do that this time. Hopefully that doesn’t impair your enjoyment of the story.
> 
> Also, I started using a work skin with this chapter for the texting indents. Let me know if you have problems with it and I'll see what else I can do.

After lunch the following Friday, Arthur sent Merlin a text to remind him that he was still invited out to the Crown & Oak for drinks with Arthur, Gwaine, Leon, and Elyan. When Arthur didn’t hear back by the time he’d arrived at the pub, he sent off another message.

Hope everything is okay.

Two pints later, Merlin responded.

Freya finally got to come home today. I think I need to stay here and take care of her.

Gwaine was in the middle of an outlandish story about some idiot who’d tried scamming him on the street, but Arthur turned toward the wall to his left so he could concentrate better.

I understand. We meet up at the same time every other week. Feel free to stop by any time.

And don’t forget that you and Freya owe Gwen your attendance at one of her intimate dinner parties.

I already told her that you’d come. You can’t disappoint her now.

Merlin’s response was almost immediate this time.

I haven’t forgotten. Told Freya about it this afternoon. She was thrilled. Don’t remember the last time I’ve seen her so enthusiastic about anything.

“Hey,” Gwaine said, interrupting Arthur in the middle of deciding how he was going to respond. “You’re supposed to be paying attention to my story. No work during pub night. That’s the rules.”

“It’s not work,” Leon said.

Leon was Arthur’s oldest friend. They’d been neighbours growing up so Arthur had meet him even before his first day of school.

“See how he’s angling his body away from us like that?”

Arthur scoffed. “What are you talking about?” Then he added, “He is right though, it isn’t work.”

“How could you tell?” Gwaine said.

“For as long as I’ve known him, Arthur’s always been secretive like that when he’s talking with his, uh… romantic interest, so clearly he’s texting his wife.”

“Gross.” Elyan grimaced. “Don’t say it like that. You make it sound like he’s sexting her. She’s my sister remember.”

“Never fear, Elyan,” Arthur said. “Leon may know me longer than anyone apart from family, and he may have properly deduced that this wasn’t work related, but it’s not Gwen. I’m just texting my new mate, Merlin. I thought he might be joining us tonight, but he has to stay home to care for his wife.”

“Whipped, is he?” Gwaine said with a little laugh.

“You shouldn’t joke about that. His wife, Freya, is really sick—cancer. She had surgery last week, but it’s not a cure. The way Merlin talks… I don’t know what other treatments they have lined up for her, but it sounds like they’re just buying her more time.”

“Shit. I… well. Hope she’s feeling better. Err. As much as can be anyway and that he can join us another time. My sister, she may be an evil hag, but she spent a lot of time caring for our no-good father before he finally kicked the bucket. Didn’t do well for her health.” 

Arthur made a wordless grunt. He hadn’t considered that before—that Merlin could be compromising his own health by dedicating so much of himself to Freya’s care. Of course that didn’t mean he shouldn’t do it. Arthur rather admired the man. As much as a person can such a new acquaintance. It was more than that though. There was just something about him… Something that made Arthur sure that they’d get on quite well if they got to know each other a bit better.

The truth of the matter was, while Arthur had a good group of friends, there were some aspects of his life that he wasn’t comfortable sharing with them. Troubles with Gwen for instance. He couldn’t talk about that kind of thing with Elyan. He would take her side and rightfully so. But it felt weird with the others, too, because Gwen was friends with everyone in the group as well. He didn’t want to make anyone feel like they had to choose between them.

Arthur turned back toward his friends, tried to reengage, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Merlin. He tried his best to hide it, because it _was_ strange, wasn’t it? To be thinking this much about a new acquaintance? To be wishing he were here so you could talk with him some more? It wasn’t… Leon had been way off base. Arthur was married. Didn’t want that to change. Him and Gwen, they were in this for the long haul; they’d make it work. He might have had a few experiences with blokes before marrying—he knew he wasn’t picky in that regard—but he’d made his choice. And though Merlin was sort of appealing in a strange sort of way, it wasn’t as if he were having carnal thoughts about the man. He just wanted a new friend. That was allowed. Right?

His acting seemed to make it past the men at his table, and maybe that was the first sign that he did need a closer friend. Someone who would notice and comment when he was out of sorts.

Maybe he was just desperate for something new, anything different, from what he had now. And while it was unfair to place all that expectation on Merlin, especially considering his own circumstances, maybe Merlin was desperate for something different in his life, too. Maybe that was why he’d struck up a conversation with a random stranger.

Gwen’s first question when Arthur returned home was to ask if Merlin had been able to join them. Considering she’d never met the man, Gwen liked Merlin quite a lot, owing, no doubt to his promised attendance at one of her dinner parties. She was already needling Arthur to ask Merlin if he or Freya had any dietary restrictions so that she could plan her menu. She would go overboard on this dinner. She had a void in her future, just as Arthur did.

~*~*~*~

Freya, Arthur learned, when she and Merlin were finally able to make it for dinner nearly two months after the initial invitation, was a tiny little thing. Not just because she was a bit on the short side, but because she was over-thin and frail looking. She had a big smile though, and Merlin lit up when he saw it. Gwen and Freya hit it off right away and after an overly large dinner, where Arthur was happy to see that Freya ate well, the two of them absconded from the dining room on their own so that they could… Arthur wasn’t sure what. Talk about whenever it was that women like to discuss when in their own company, he supposed. Arthur shook his head, and Merlin just shrugged.

It wasn’t hard for Arthur to decide what he wanted to do next. He tipped his head toward the back door, said, “Come on,” and showed Merlin back to his tiny shed where he liked to tinker around with one of his hobbies, amateur blacksmithing. Gwen’s dad had been big into reenactments and had shown Arthur the basics before he passed away. It was soothing in an unexpected sort of way, heating the metal until it glowed, pounding it into a new and better shape. He wasn’t very good, but he showed Merlin his little collection of hand forged knives.

“Now this one,” Arthur hefted a small dagger in his hand, “is my best work. Still not very good in the grand scheme of things, but I’m proud of it.” He offered the hunk of metal to Merlin, holding it by the tip of the blade.

Merlin took the dagger, held it up to the light to inspect it. “I didn’t think you were the type to be modest. This looks really good.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“Fair enough,” Merlin said. “I’m still impressed though, even if you do still need a handle for it.” Merlin looked around at the other blades laid out on his worktable, no doubt noting that none of them had handles either.

“The woodwork is my least favourite part, so I end up with a lot of blades, but few finished pieces.” Arthur pointed at the blade he’d handed to Merlin. “I’ve already picked out a piece of oak that I want to make the handle for that one from. I just need to work it into the right shape. I’d thought I might carve something into the handle as well, but I’m no artist.”

The shed was on the small side to begin with, and Arthur had it packed with all the standard lawn care equipment as well as the tools of his hobby. It left enough room for him to work in, but the addition of a second person made things tight. Merlin maneuvered around, clearly trying to avoid bumping into anything, but wasn’t entirely successful. He hissed in pain when he tapped his elbow against the circular saw that Arthur had sitting near the edge of his workbench.

“You all right?” Arthur said as Merlin reached his other hand over to gently cradle the injured joint. “Didn’t think you hit it that hard.”

“No, I didn’t. It’s fine. I just hit the exact wrong spot. I’ve already got a bruise there from something else.” Before Arthur could ask more, Merlin said, “It’s nice that you have a hobby like this. There’s so many interesting things I’d like to try, but…”

Arthur didn’t prod him to continue. He knew what Merlin was getting at. He was too busy caring for his wife to enjoy finding a new hobby for himself.

“It’s okay to wish you had more time for yourself.”

Merlin gave a mirthless laugh. “Makes me feel selfish.”

“It’s not.”

Merlin looked away, a soft blush rising on his cheeks. After a few more moments of silence than felt comfortable, Merlin cleared his throat. “I’m glad you thought of this. Dinner, I mean. It’s been really nice. I know Freya is having a good time, too. For a while, it almost felt like we were a normal couple. I think I’d forgotten how to do anything but worry.”

“You can’t live like that Merlin.”

Merlin opened his mouth to respond when a loud clatter came from inside the house. Merlin bolted back inside with Arthur close on his heels.

When Arthur caught up it was to find Freya standing in the middle of the living room, arms limp at her side, face looking to the ceiling, screaming as if she were being eaten alive. Gwen stood there partly in shock, partly in fear. The tea tray she always used for company was on the floor, the handle on one of the cups broken off, and a full pot of her favourite after-dinner tea soaking into the carpet.

Merlin was quick to handle the situation. He rushed to Freya’s side, gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and spoke in soothing tones, as if trying to reassure a frightened animal.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to Gwen after the screaming had stopped, his tone pleading and his expression remorseful, as though he’d done something wrong.

Gwen stammered out some placations, then said, “Is…. Is she okay? One minute she was fine, the next she was raving.”

Merlin helped settle Freya onto the couch to rest. “She just needs a few more minutes to recover. With these spells, it’s more a matter of waiting it out than it is overpowering them.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” Freya said, then explained how her tumor had put pressure on the portion of her brain that regulates her mood and that sometimes she was overcome with sudden outbursts.

“I’ve been so much better after my last surgery. Please believe me, I’d have never come if I’d known that I wouldn’t be able to keep myself under control.”

Gwen, kind woman that she is, would have nothing of the sort. She insisted that she was glad they’d come, that she understood it wasn’t anyone’s fault, and that Freya and Merlin absolutely had to come back and have dinner with them again.

“It’s been so nice having you in our home, Freya, truly. You can’t just stay at home hiding from the world for the rest of your life.”

Freya was crying by then, and Gwen moved over to give the woman a hug.

Arthur thought well of Gwen for saying those things, and even more so for meaning them, but he didn’t actually expect Freya to want to come back again. He’d forgotten that Gwen could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, and a few weeks later, Merlin and Freya were back, this time just for tea and a bit of light conversation so that Freya wouldn’t get too worn out.

Arthur couldn’t get over how pleasant having Merlin and Freya over was. It wasn’t at all like the occasions where he’d had to help play host to other couples, and he was always quick to suggest another invitation. It quickly became a routine. Gwen said they were building back up to another dinner. She already had the main course planned and was trying out new baklava recipes because she wanted to make Freya her favourite dessert.

During these get togethers, it was typical that the four of them would start a conversation, but somewhere along the way, they always seemed to split off and Gwen and Freya would talk about their interests and Arthur and Merlin would have their own separate conversation. In a matter of a few short months, Arthur came to know just about everything about Merlin. Stories from his childhood; the names and personalities of all his co-workers; his favourite books, movies, and music; about his mother and his uncle; and how he met Freya when he was only 14.

Everything that Merlin spoke of that made him excited, that made him light up when telling the story, had happened years ago, before Freya had got sick, and Arthur found himself starting to think poorly of her. Objectively, he knew it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t want to be sick. She couldn’t help having cancer. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about how her unfortunate circumstances were hurting Merlin. He squashed down that part of himself as best as he could, knowing it wasn’t rational.

Before Arthur knew it, summer had slipped into autumn, and suddenly November was here. A text chimed in from Merlin while Arthur was in the middle of brushing his teeth on the morning of the 8th.

Hey. Freya might have mentioned what day it is today. I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you want to talk. And if you don’t want to talk, I’m still here, thinking about you.

Arthur sat down on the edge of the bathtub with his elbows on his knees, covered his face with his hands, and cried like he hadn’t since April. He’d deleted the appointment off his calendar months ago, but he hadn’t needed a reminded to know what today was. His son or daughter was meant to have been born today, or near enough. Today was the official due date, and he’d been dreading its arrival for the past week. He didn’t send a reply to Merlin’s text until late that night, but he kept looking back at it all through the day. It was such a little thing, just a few sentences, but it was all he needed to feel like he wasn’t alone.


	4. The Night Out

“Kara cornered me yesterday,” Merlin said from his usual spot next to Freya on the sofa.

Gwen stood from her chair. “Anybody need anything? Freya, more tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Merlin shook his head at Gwen and returned to his story. “Wanted to let me know that it was highly recommended that I come to this year’s holiday party. She wants to give me a promotion, but says I have to prove to everyone that I’m a team player.”

“As if you don’t do that every day at work,” Arthur said. Gwen glanced at his cup, which was still half full. To her, he said, “No thanks, I’m good.”

“I was really hoping I’d be able to make it this year,” Freya said. “But I don’t know, Merlin… The crowds…”

Arthur frowned, looking back at Freya with a more critical eye. He’d thought she’d been doing well. She’d gained a decent amount of weight over the past several months, and she seemed to have more energy than when they’d first met.

Freya turned to Merlin. “Maybe you should take Arthur with you instead.”

Arthur hated these kinds of parties when it was his own co-workers. Dealing with someone else’s? He looked from Freya, who was hard enough to say no to, then to Merlin, who was already shaking his head, saying how it wouldn’t be right to force Arthur into something like this.

Arthur found himself saying, “Sure. I’ll be your plus one, Merlin. Might be fun.”

Freya beamed at him. Gwen gave him a pat on the shoulder as she returned from refilling Freya’s drink, said, “You’re such a good friend, Arthur.”

And Merlin, Merlin’s expression went soft. “Thanks, Arthur. You’re the best.”

He hadn’t done anything special, but it suddenly felt like he had.

~*~*~*~

Arthur pulled out his best suit for the occasion—an expensive three-piece suit made of fine Italian wool that his father had insisted on buying for him several years ago, even though Arthur had no occasion to wear it. At the time, he’d said, “Every respectable man should have a good suit, Arthur. You never know when you’ll need it.” 

He’d been planning on wearing something a bit more casual until Merlin mentioned that all the women he worked with were planning on wearing the most formal dress they owned. Maybe he could have bucked the trend, but he was meant to be helping show that Merlin was part of the group, and Uther had instilled in him at an early age the importance of dressing to fit the occasion. Merlin had clearly come to the same conclusion.

“You clean up better than I expected,” Arthur said, when Merlin showed up on his doorstep in a well-tailored navy suit on the night of the party.

Freya brushed some invisible lint off her husband’s jacket and tugged him down so that she could kiss his cheek. She said, “Try to have a good time,” to Merlin, then, “You too,” to Arthur as she stepped inside and went off looking for Gwen.

To distract Freya from the disappoint of not feeling up for a big party, Gwen had promised her a relaxing movie night.

When Arthur redirected his attention back to Merlin, the man said, “Was that a compliment?”

Merlin didn’t quite manage to suppress a cheeky grin. His suit may not be as expensive as Arthur’s, but he obviously knew he looked good. There was a certain confidence in the way he held himself that Arthur didn’t get to see often enough.

Arthur gave Merlin a light-hearted push on his shoulder.

“Oww!”

“That didn’t hurt, you baby. I barely touched you.”

Merlin rubbed lightly at his shoulder, said, “I have a bruise there.”

Arthur scoffed, secretly feeling horrible, even after Merlin gave him a warm smile that indicated no hard feelings.

“Come on,” Merlin said. “The quicker we get there and say hello to everyone, the quicker we can leave. Freya just wants to be home by 10, so if we get this over with fast enough, we’ll have time to go do something that’s actually fun for an hour or two.”

They took a cab in case the party was so tedious that they had to resort to overindulging in the eggnog to make it bearable.

The party was being held in a hotel ballroom downtown. The lights were dimmed for ambiance, and generic music wafted through the room’s sound system. Dozens of people were already there, milling around and talking in small groups when Arthur and Merlin arrived. Merlin pointed out his boss, and they went to say hello.

“Freya can’t make it?” Kara said, looking a little confused by Arthur’s presence.

“Sorry. She really wanted to come, but she’s just not feeling up to it. Dr. Pittman has her on some medications that really drain her energy. But hey, I dragged my good friend Arthur along instead.”

Arthur extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kara.”

She smiled and took his hand with a weak grip, held it just a few seconds too long. “I should…” She finally let go of Arthur’s hand, turned her head and raised her voice. “Mordred! Come meet Merlin and his friend.”

A man who looked more in line with Arthur’s age than with Kara’s maneuvered his way over. He put his left arm around Kara’s waist, offered up handshakes for Merlin and Arthur as Kara made the introductions.

He had dark, curly hair, and he squeezed Arthur’s hand a bit harder than necessary, as if he were subtly trying to show off his strength. He reminded Arthur of… someone. He wasn’t sure who.

Throughout the conversation, Mordred kept sneaking appraisingly looks at Arthur until finally he said, “You know, Arthur, I’m sure I know you from somewhere.”

“You do look a little familiar.”

Kara brushed the exchange aside, started talking with Merlin about something work related that Arthur didn’t quite follow. That didn’t stop Mordred from continuing to stare.

Before either of them could pin down where they’d met before, Kara excused herself and Mordred to go and greet the latest arrivals to the party.

Merlin moved around the room, saying hello to his co-workers and their significant others. Arthur seemed to be the only guest who was there as a friend and not a romantic attachment. In spite of that, it wasn’t as awkward as Arthur had expected it to be. Everyone knew Merlin was married. Everyone knew about Freya’s condition. They weren’t surprised that she hadn’t felt up to coming to her husband’s work party. And knowing Merlin, they weren’t surprised that he had a close friend who was willing to come keep him company when his beloved wife couldn’t be there.

“I’m starving,” Merlin said, eyeing the table of hors d’oeuvres.

Arthur gave him an approving nod, and they made their way over to the food. For as classy as Merlin’s co-workers were trying to make this party out to be, the food was a little plebian—basic crudité, little bacon wrapped sausages skewered on toothpicks, prawn cocktail, and a few other things that didn’t look terribly appetizing.

Arthur was in the middle of popping one of the little sausages into his mouth when the memory hit him. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“I remember where I know Mordred from.” He dragged a hand down his face in a poor attempt to conceal his embarrassment.

“Where?”

Arthur looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “We might have, uhh…” he cleared his throat, “exchanged messy hand jobs at a party once. This would have been years ago, during my first year at university. Gwen and I were broken up for about six month and I… you know… experimented.”

Merlin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Does Gwen know?”

“Of course she does. I mean, about me sometimes being attracted to blokes. I didn’t see the need to fill her in on all the gory details. Not that there would have been much to tell. That hand job is the furthest I ever went with a man.”

“Decided you didn’t like it?”

“No, that’s not it. I just… I was in love with Gwen. That’s all.”

Deep in the recesses of his conscience, a guilty part of himself admitted that it was also easier to be with Gwen. He’d never even had to tell his father that he was attracted to men as well as women. That wasn’t the reason he’d married her of course, but it was true all the same, and maybe, just maybe, if he were being fully honest with himself, that had played some small factor in his decision to fight so hard for his relationship with Gwen from the day he first asked her on a date.

“So you’re… bisexual then. How did I not know that?”

Arthur shrugged. “It’s not terribly relevant for my life anymore.” He didn’t really believe that though. It always kind of pissed him off when people assumed that he was straight, which everyone did. “That’s not a problem for you, is it?”

Arthur hadn’t expected it would be an issue. He’d thought he’d known how Merlin felt about that topic—that he was an ally. Now, there was a lead weight in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t stop growing.

“What? No, of course not! I didn’t mean to imply… God, I handled that badly.” 

Merlin surged forward to pull Arthur into a tight hug. Arthur was so stunned that he didn’t do anything about it for a good ten seconds. None of his other friends had ever hugged him like this. It wasn’t just a quick slap on the back and done. It was a full chest-to-chest ordeal that untangled some hidden knot he’d carried around since he was a teenager and first felt the stirrings of want when looking at a boy. Who knew that hugs could feel so validating?

When he finally responded, he brought his arms up awkwardly to Merlin’s back. He wanted to squeeze him back, but said, “Thanks, Merlin, but I believe you. This isn’t necessary.”

It was Arthur’s own fault that Merlin immediately pulled back. It still left him feeling vaguely disappointed.

“Of course it is. You think since you married a woman that it’s not a big deal, but it’s still part of your identity. It doesn’t disappear just because others don’t see it.”

Arthur couldn’t argue. It was absolutely true, and none of his other friends seemed to get it. Not even Gwen. To his own shame, he’d found that he sometimes censored himself on the topic of his attraction to men. Other people might be talking about their first crush, or their first kiss, or a terrible date they’d been on before meeting their current partner. If Arthur joined in with his own experiences, he usually only talked about those with women. It was just easier that way.

Merlin said, “I need you to know that you don’t have to hide any part of yourself with me. You’re my friend no matter what.”

How was it that Merlin knew exactly what Arthur needed to hear even when he didn’t know it himself?

“Thanks, Merlin. I… I really appreciate that.”

Merlin glanced away for a long moment and took a deep breath. When he turned back, he said, “You know, Arthur, I don’t mean to make this about me, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you—"

A heavy hand came down on Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin turned mid-sentence to reveal a portly, balding man in his late sixties or early seventies. “Merlin!” He had a booming, jovial voice. “It is ‘Merlin,’ isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Harrison.”

“Sorry to hear your wife wasn’t feeling well enough to join us. Kara was telling me all about it.”

Merlin gave Mr. Harrison the same excuse he’d given everyone else and ended with his introduction of Arthur as his stand-in plus one.

“Arthur, this is Mr. Eugene Harrison. He’s the chief executive for the whole hospital.”

“Good to meet you, sir.” Arthur gave the man his best handshake. Mr. Harrison had a firm grip, but his palms were a bit clammy.

After several long minutes of boring small talk, Mr. Harrison went off to pester some other poor sod.

“What do you say we take off?” Merlin said. “I think we’ve met our obligations here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Anything in particular you want to do?” Merlin checked his watch. “Damn. We’ve been here longer than I thought. This doesn’t leave us with as much time as I wanted before Freya expects me to pick her up.”

Freya had been hoping she could get her driving license restored after her surgery, but it still hadn’t happened yet, and Arthur knew better than to suggest that Freya take a cab or have Gwen take her home. Merlin was very insistent about certain things when it came to Freya, and Arthur had no desire to argue.

“I suppose we could just go to a pub, but that’s what we normally do when we go out.”

After a short silence to mull over the possibilities, Merlin said, “I know. Let’s go bowling!”

“Bowling? Really?”

“Why not? My mates and I used to go all the time when we were teenagers. It’s fun, and it doesn’t take long to play a game or two.”

Bowling was on Arthur’s Top 10 List of Activities for a Lame Evening Out, but Merlin was so excited about it, he had to give in.

They took a cab to the nearest bowling alley, and it didn’t take Arthur long to realize that Merlin was right. Bowling could be fun. It just depended on what your goals were and who you were with. Bowling for fun with Merlin was a world away from bowling under Uther’s strict gaze. ‘Your approach is sloppy, Arthur. Your stride is too long. You’ve got a hitch in your swing, Arthur.’

They only had time for one game, but that was because they were both terrible bowlers and kept getting distracted with increasingly elaborate insults and over the top victory celebrations. The first time Merlin picked up a spare, he tossed his hands in the air and let out a whoop more suited to winning a tournament than his first spare in 6 frames. “This puts me in the lead, Pendragon!” Merlin jabbed a finger in Arthur’s direction. “You and your posh suit will never catch up now.”

Technically, Arthur wasn’t really wearing a suit anymore. He’d ditched his jacket, tie, and waistcoat when he’d changed into his bowling shoes. Like Merlin, he didn’t even have his shirt tucked in anymore, but Arthur laughed anyway. He laughed at all of Merlin’s celebrations and even more at his insults. He hadn’t had so much fun in years.


	5. The Gift

“Maybe we should go bowling sometime,” Arthur said to Gwen over lunch the first Saturday after the New Year. It had been several weeks since his night out with Merlin, but he still couldn’t get over how much fun they’d had together. Maybe if he and Gwen could have an evening like that every now and then, they’d be able to recapture some of the spark they’d had as teenagers.

She didn’t look very enthusiastic about the idea, so Arthur wasn’t surprised when she said, “You get too competitive.” 

“Merlin didn’t think I was too competitive.”

“Maybe bowling should be something for just the two of you then.”

Arthur didn’t even try to prevent the bitter frown that her response provoked. How could she not see how much they needed this? It was like she didn’t even care enough about their marriage to try anymore.

“Besides, why go out when we have a party to plan?”

“Party?” Arthur didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. She knew very well that Arthur didn’t enjoy event planning the way she did.

“Of course. Merlin’s birthday!”

“Merlin’s birthday?” Well, okay, maybe he was a little interested now.

“Don’t you know your friends’ birthdays?”

Obviously he hadn’t known Merlin’s, and that sent a prickle of irritation straight to his gut. Why was he the last to know? That didn’t seem right.

“It’s only a week away, so we barely have any time to plan.”

Arthur sat up a little straighter, pushed aside his half-eaten sandwich. “We’d better get to it then.”

Arthur didn’t feel quite so bad about not knowing Merlin’s birthday when he learned that the only reason Gwen knew was because Freya had mentioned that she wanted to do something extra special for her husband’s birthday this year but wasn’t sure what would be best. So of course, Gwen had instantly volunteered her services as an event planner. The two women had hatched a scheme that involved not only a small surprise party at Arthur and Gwen’s but scheduling Merlin for a holiday to spend a week in St Davids with his Uncle Gaius. 

Arthur knew the man needed the break, but Freya said she wouldn’t be going along, and Arthur wondered if being away from his wife like that would make Merlin anxious. It was as if he thought himself the only person on the planet capable of taking care of her—even though Freya seems perfectly able to care for herself lately. Merlin took the “in sickness” part of his wedding vows to an unhealthy extreme in Arthur’s opinion, but there was no way he could ever tell Merlin that. Arthur knew the man well enough by now to know that a conversation like that would only end in a fight. So Arthur was put in a position where he could either go along with the plan or spoil Freya’s fun, and he wasn’t going to do that to her.

The guest list for the party was worked out in short order—Freya and Merlin, of course, Arthur and Gwen, plus Gwaine, who Merlin seemed to get on with frighteningly well, Elyan, and Leon.

Since it was to be a birthday party, Arthur needed a gift. Gwen said that the holiday was already going to be from Freya and Gwen and that they could just add his name on as well—no need for him to go to any trouble—but Arthur wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted to do something extra. Something just from him for his good friend. So he resolved to forge Merlin a handmade knife and promised himself he’d finish the handle and everything. Maybe he could even teach himself a little leatherwork so that he could make a sheath.

The next day, Gwen was off volunteering at the food bank so he didn’t even have to feel guilty about spending too much time out in his shed. He went out and started work first thing after breakfast.

He grabbed a blank piece of steel so that he could tailor make the piece for Merlin. It would feel like cheating if he started with one of the dozen blades that were half finished already. He took the whole morning getting the forge to the right temperature and hammering out the rough shape. It would be a simple design. Nothing fancy. A good, sturdy work knife with a 5-inch blade.

He knew very well that Merlin didn’t have a use for such a thing, and that it would probably only ever sit in a drawer in Merlin’s house, but Arthur liked the idea of him seeing it every now and then. Of him remembering that Arthur valued his company enough to spend the time to make something just for him.

He took a short break for lunch, only to find out that it was already two o’clock. He’d been working so hard he hadn’t even noticed that he missed his usual meal time. He ate a quick bowl of leftovers from last night’s supper and went right back to work. It usually took him about 20 hours to make a knife and with all the extra work he wanted to put into this particular piece, Arthur was going to be hard pressed to have it ready in time for the party if he didn’t make the most of the one full day he had to work on it.

It was exhausting work, and he still had a long way to go, but he was making good progress, so when he noticed it was full dark, he allowed himself another break and went inside to find that Gwen was already home.

“You’re back,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

She chuckled. “It’s past six, the program was over hours ago.”

“Oh. Go out with other volunteers after?” He didn’t mind; it was just something to say.

“No, came straight home.”

“Oh,” he said again. “You could have come and got me.”

“It’s all right. You were preoccupied. I didn’t want to interrupt.” She didn’t sound upset that he’d been ignoring her all afternoon. Like Arthur, she was just making conversation.

Time was short, and Arthur had to work on the knife every night after work to finish in time but found that didn't bother him at all. It was nice actually, to have a task that he was excited to be working on even with an impending deadline and worries that this or that wouldn’t turn out right. He even found himself wanting to leave work on time for a change.

When he finally finished with the metalwork, he went through his whole stock of lumber three times trying to determine which piece had the most interesting grain pattern. After finally making a decision, he cut the piece down to size and sawed it in half so that the tang could be sandwiched in between. He’d already made the holes in the tang for the rivets, so he lined them up and drilled out both pieces of the handle to match.

He sanded the handle for hours and applied coat after coat of tung oil until it was smooth to the touch and had a glossy shine. He spent the night before the party trying desperately to get the leather awl to work the way he wanted and it took practice. He had to start over on a fresh piece of leather.

“It’s lovely, Arthur,” Gwen said when she saw the finished product a few hours before the start of the party.

She clearly wasn’t looking closely. There were obvious flaws, especially in the leatherwork, but it was going to have to do. He wished he’d known about Merlin’s birthday sooner, so he could have taken more time and done a better job, but in the end, he was proud of his work. He looked forward to giving it to Merlin and seeing what he thought. He would see the effort Arthur had put in. Merlin was attentive like that.

~*~*~*~

Arthur yawned for the third time in ten minutes.

“All right there, mate?” Gwaine said. He had a small plate loaded down with Gwen’s best hors d’oeuvres in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

“Yeah, just had a late night is all.”

“Good, this is supposed to be a party. You’re not supposed to be bored.”

Arthur wasn’t bored, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his eyes open much longer. It wasn’t just last night that he’d been short on sleep. He’d stayed up late just about every night this week to work on his present for Merlin.

Gwen pulled him aside. “Why don’t you go to bed, Arthur? I’m sure Merlin and Freya won’t mind.”

Arthur saw the wisdom in her recommendation, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He hadn’t seen Merlin at all in the last few weeks. He found himself wishing everyone else would skip out early so he could have a few minutes to talk with Merlin alone. Not about anything important, he just wanted some time with his friend. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

“This is too much,” Merlin said when he started opening gifts. “Really, you are all such good friends.”

Arthur frowned. Merlin looked overwhelmed a little with the realization that he _had_ good friends.

Gwaine got Merlin a bottle of sloe gin because Merlin had once told them the story about how, at the age of 16, that particular drink was responsible for the only time he’d ever got blackout drunk. Merlin laughed, and Arthur began to question the wisdom of his own gift. He’d worked so hard on it. What if Merlin didn’t like it, or tried to pretend to like it but didn’t really see the point? Arthur wasn’t even sure of the point. It wasn’t like he was an outdoorsman. He didn’t need it for defense or anything practical.

His stomach churned when Merlin picked up the package. Freya and Gwen had gone ahead and included Arthur’s name on the card that explained about his upcoming holiday, so Merlin looked over to Leon, thinking maybe this present was from him.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. “Just a little something extra from me.”

Merlin quirked his eyes back to Arthur, looking curious and bit bemused.

He tore past the newspaper wrapping, put his hands on his gift, looked up to Arthur, then back down again.

“The sheath is a little rough,” Arthur said.

Merlin pulled the knife out, held it up to get a good look in the light.

“Careful. It’s sharp enough to shave with.”

“You made this?” Merlin sounded impressed. More impressed than Arthur thought was warranted, and he wondered if maybe Merlin was faking it.

Arthur shrugged. “No big deal. I learned a lot working on it.”

“This is amazing, Arthur.” He leaned over to show Freya. “Look at that.”

“I know you don’t have much use for it…”

“Are you kidding? It’s like a piece of art. Even the handle is beautiful. What kind of wood is this?”

“Just a piece of scrap oak.” He wasn’t going to say that he’d spent hours agonizing over every detail.

Freya eventually had to urge Merlin to move on to the other gifts, but Arthur was at least satisfied that Merlin hadn’t hated it. If Arthur thought about it, such a minor confidence didn’t seem to justify how giddy Merlin’s reaction made him feel, but it did, and so he just didn’t think about it.


	6. The Cliff

Arthur stared at the latest text from his father asking to meet for lunch. As much as he had no desire to listen to yet another sales pitch to pull Arthur away from his charity to go and work for Uther in the corporate world instead, he knew he couldn’t put his father off again. There was only so much Uther would tolerate before he started to make Arthur’s life miserable, and his threshold was not high.

Not for the first time, Arthur remembered what Merlin had said when they’d first met about being his own man for not letting Uther rule his life—words that meant even more now that he really knew Merlin. It gave him the fortitude to send a reply agreeing to meet the next day.

When their lunch appointment arrived, Uther couldn’t even wait until their orders had been taken before he started in.

“It’s hard to believe you’ve been at that silly charity for seven years, Arthur. How do you stand it?”

As if feeding and sheltering the city’s most vulnerable citizens was a waste of time and effort.

“Some people just can’t be helped. They refuse to learn. I’ll never understand why you bother.”

Over the course of the meal, Arthur’s blood pressure went from elevated to skyrocketing. It was like Uther had conveniently forgotten that his own daughter had spent a year on the streets just to get away from him.

Arthur needed to vent before he went back to the office. He pulled out his mobile and sent a series of long, rambling texts to Merlin. He knew his friend would be at work at this hour and didn’t expect a reply until that evening, but the simple act of typing out his complaints and sending them off helped him regain his composure.

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin replied before he got back to his office. He must have been on his lunch break, too.

I have a hard time seeing how you turned out so well considering how awful your father sounds.  
You clearly must take after your mother.

Merlin knew Arthur’s history by now. How his mother had died when he was nine years old. How he treasured every memory he had of her. Out of all of Arthur’s friends, Merlin had known him for the least amount of time, but somehow, he always knew just the thing to say to make Arthur feel better.

Merlin texted him again that night after Arthur was off work, and they spent the remainder of the evening exchanging increasing frequent messages. When his usual bedtime rolled around, Arthur brushed his teeth, changed into his pyjamas, and sat up in bed an extra hour just so they could keep talking.

“Still chatting with Merlin?” Gwen said when she came to bed.

Arthur answered with a little laugh, saying, “He was just telling me about a man he encountered at work today with the most unfortunate tattoo.”

“You know, Arthur, I’m glad you met him.”

“Oh?”

“You seem happier lately, and I got a new friend out of it, too.”

~*~*~*~

On an ordinary Tuesday evening in late March, Gwen said, “Freya and I are going to be watching the Celebrity Bake Off. I know you hate it, so I wanted to warn you in advance.”

Arthur perked up. He hadn’t known they were coming over tonight. “I thought Merlin wasn’t getting back from his uncle’s until Thursday, but I’m sure we can find something to do out of the way.”

In fact, now he was thinking about it, he was sure Merlin wouldn’t be back tonight. He’d sent Arthur a string of gorgeous photos of the coast just that morning. And when Arthur had admitted that he’d never been to Pembrokeshire, Merlin had said he had to come for a visit someday, said that he would love it, and that Merlin would show him all the best sights. He’d have mentioned if he were coming home early. Arthur must have misunderstood. Maybe Gwen had meant next week, or—

“Oh, Merlin’s not coming.”

“What?” Freya had never come to their house without Merlin. Even that night that Arthur had gone with Merlin to his holiday party, the two of them had shown up and left Arthur’s together. Arthur didn’t think it was just because of Freya’s health that they were always together. They were just that sort of couple.

“Aww,” Gwen said, an amused look on her face. “You’re so adorable.”

Despite the fact that he knew he was repeating himself, he said, “What?”

Gwen stepped close to him, reached a hand up to pat his cheek. “You look like a little kid who’s been promised his favourite treat, just to have it taken away.”

He felt like a little kid too when she patted his cheek like that, but he ignored the irritation, because now he was really confused.

“You’re so disappointed to be missing out on time with your new best friend.”

“You’re my best friend,” he said automatically, because it was supposed to be true, and because he hadn’t realized until the words were out of his mouth that they weren’t. That they hadn’t been for years.

“So sweet too… sometimes. I always knew that about you though. Even though you try to be the strong one all the time. I saw your warm heart right away. That’s… part of the reason I fell in love with you,” she said, as though reminding herself. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Freya knows to send Merlin round for a visit when he gets back. I’m sure he’ll be eager to tell you all about his trip.”

Then she walked away as if she hadn’t just exposed the terrible cliff that Arthur had been unwittingly edging along for months. Maybe since the moment he first met Merlin in that hospital waiting room.

Gwen might not be worried, but Arthur could see the fall now, knew how close he was. He could feel the earth crumbling beneath his feet and saw no way back to stable ground. All his happiest memories in the last year were with Merlin, and when Arthur had a rough day, just talking with him made things more bearable. If Merlin had a problem that Arthur was able to help with, he felt like Superman for the rest of the day. He looked forward to his limited time with Merlin more than any other part of his life—more than work or his hobbies, more than eating or sex with his wife.

Now he recognized his feelings for what they were, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like. And that was the worst part, because the fantasy he imagined, it felt like he would be living his best life. To have Merlin as his daily companion… To see him first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. To just be together through the mundane, to help each other through the bad days, and to enjoy the fun parts of life together, too. Things like holidays at the coast, ridiculous date nights at the bowling alley, and… and fuck. Things like sex.

It wasn’t as if Arthur hadn’t noticed before now that Merlin was physically attractive, but there’s a big difference between objectively noticing something and having a conscious understanding of how that something made you feel. What a nightmare. Even with all their troubles, Arthur had never looked at anyone beside Gwen, not with any real longing. Not since they’d been married. Not until now. He’d certainly never fantasized about having an affair before. Now the scene was vivid in his head and as much as he tried to fight it, his brain refused to give up the train of thought.

Merlin would come for a visit, like Gwen had suggested, and they would be talking. Nothing out of the ordinary. Merlin would tell him about his trip—how his uncle was doing, what wildlife he’d managed to see on his daily walks. Then there’d be a natural lull in the conversation. Arthur would watch Merlin; Merlin would be gazing back. They did that sometimes in real life, but it never meant anything. Merlin couldn’t possibly want him too; he loved Freya. In Arthur’s fantasy, that little fact was easy to forget. They would both just lean in at the same time, easy and natural.

Arthur closed his eyes without realizing it so that he could see the scene play out better in his mind, feel the phantom pressure of Merlin’s lips pressing against his own, Merlin’s tongue brushing into his mouth. Arthur could almost imagine the taste of him. The fantasy continued to unfold with Arthur pulling Merlin close enough to find an even more satisfying form of contact. All of Arthur’s attentions would be well received. They’d both be eager to do more, to go further, to try everything with each other. A light, pleasant tingling sensation danced across the back of Arthur’s neck, just where he imagined Merlin’s hands touching him and God help him, his pants were beginning to feel a bit too constrictive.

“Half seven, Arthur.”

Gwen’s sudden comment from halfway across the room pulled him out of his daydream. “Huh?”

“That’s what time Freya is coming.”

Arthur didn’t respond.

“That all right?”

“Uhh, yeah. Of course,” Arthur croaked.

“You all right? You sound a bit out of sorts all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine.” And he retreated to the toilet for some privacy. He leaned against the closed door breathing quick and shallow and found that he wasn’t lucky enough that his short interaction with his wife had cleared away any of those horrible thoughts. It certainly hadn’t calmed his traitorous dick down either.

He should go romance Gwen into bed right now. She’d probably appreciated that. It had been nearly a year since the miscarriage and they’d only had sex a few times in between—though to be honest that wasn’t all that different from before the miscarriage. Instead, Arthur palmed himself through his trousers and tried to keep his head blissfully blank. It didn’t work, and all too soon he was giving in, listing out excuses and rationalizations in his head as he did.

_Just this once._

_It’s only a harmless fantasy._

_I’d never act on any of these desires. That makes it okay._

His hands trembled in the process of unbuttoning his fly and pulling the zip down. He was as quiet as possible, irrationally fearing that Gwen was on the other side of the door, ear pressed to the wood because, somehow, she knew the secret he’d only just discovered. But even that fear faded as the image of Merlin on his knees grew more prominent in his mind. Or maybe Merlin would hold him from behind instead, working his hand against Arthur’s cock. He would know what Arthur needed, just like he always did. And he’d be just as lustful, would be pressing his erection into Arthur’s backside. Arthur stifled a pathetic whimper because this was all so wrong, and yet, touching himself hadn’t felt this good in ages. He couldn’t remember the last time sex with Gwen had been this exciting and wasn’t that a terrifying thought.

He went at it with a bit more vigor than he usually preferred, enough that it almost hurt, and soon he was spilling over, biting his tongue to prevent the moan that wanted to give him away. After a short rest, he went over to the toilet and pushed the lever—just in case Gwen really was paying that much attention. Then he washed himself up, pulled his clothes back into order. He checked his reflection in the mirror, tried to school his expression, and added a splash of water to his face to wash off the light sheen of sweat. It also gave him an excuse for why his fringe was touch damp.

When he deemed himself fit for Gwen’s company, he nodded to himself in the mirror, and stepped out into the hall, only to run directly into his wife. He let out an undignified yelp that he would forever deny if it came down to it.

“Arthur!”

He breathed in and out heavily. “You startled me!” This was it, wasn’t it? Women’s intuition was going to be his downfall.

“Sorry. Just wanted to say that dinner’s on.”

“Oh.” So he was safe after all. “Excellent.”

All through dinner, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over what he’d done. It wasn’t an affair to think of someone other than your spouse while having a wank, but it still felt like a betrayal. He considered confessing, but quickly dismissed the notion. He just wouldn’t do it again, and he certainly wouldn’t ever act on the impulse to kiss Merlin, let alone do anything more. And besides, he was safe anyway because Merlin didn’t want him that way. He was straight. He and Freya were one of those perfect couples that made normal people sick just to be around them. Or they would do, if not for Freya’s health problems.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Arthur?” Gwen said after Arthur had cleared the dishes. “Really, you do look a little under the weather.”

Finding out that on some level, no matter how small or distant the possibility, you wanted to cheat on your wife could do that. He decided an outright lie wasn’t the way to go at a time like this.

“You might be right. I had a stressful day. Think I’ll go work in my shed for a bit.” As an added bonus, he wouldn’t have to look Freya in the eye tonight knowing that she had something—someone—that he wanted but could never have. That he was coveting her husband.

Arthur looked around his little workshop. He didn’t really have enough motivation to get the forge going tonight, so he puttered around for a while, not actually accomplishing anything useful. Then his eyes fell on the antique axe that he’d picked up a while ago and had been meaning to restore. Replacing the handle was more work than he felt up to tonight, but the blade was in dire need of a good sharpening, and that he could manage. He plugged his bench grinder into the electrical outlet, turned the power on. The sharpening wheel spun to life and Arthur went to work, grinding away at the edge of the blade. He worked for several minutes, letting his mind drift. The shrill whine of the machine drowned out the worst of his worries, but couldn’t alleviate them completely. He changed the angle of the blade against the stone to work on the tip, mind not fully focused on his task. The stone tugged on a burr that Arthur saw, but absentmindedly ignored. He let his grip falter.

Pain flared bright and Arthur dropped the axe completely, pulling away from the wheel. Blood oozed from a gaping cut on his finger. Thick, steady drops dribbled onto his workbench, splattered onto the floor.

“Fuck!”

He clasped his other hand over the cut, trying to slow the bleeding. He had to get this washed up and bandaged. This wasn’t the sort of wound he could ignore.

He flipped the switch on the bench grinder with his elbow and nudged the shed door open with his foot. He had trouble with the door at the house, had to let go of his cut long enough to dribble spots of blood on the back step.

Gwen and Freya had moved on from the Bake Off and were now watching some drama that Arthur vaguely recognized.

“Done already?” Gwen called without taking her eyes off the television.

“Not quite. Just got a little scrape that I need to wash up.”

“Hello, Arthur.” Freya turned and smiled at him. Her eyes zeroed in on the way he was holding his injured hand. “You sure you don’t need help?”

“It’s fine, Freya. Thanks.”

She looked a bit skeptical, but Arthur went round the corner and she didn’t protest.

He nudged on the light switch in the bathroom with his shoulder and put his hands over the sink before letting go of his wound again. He turned on the tap, passed the cut under the flow of water. Arthur prodded at the flesh, trying to see how bad it was. When he pulled his hand out of the water, he had just enough time to see a little white sliver of bone at the bottom of the cut before it was inundated with blood again.

“Bollocks.”

He probably needed a couple of stitches, but the nearest urgent care clinic was already closed for the night, and he just didn’t want to deal with A&E. He didn’t care if it scarred. In fact, it would serve him right if it did. He held a flannel against the cut for a few minutes to slow the bleeding, then washed it with soapy water and bandaged it up, first with a pair of steri-strips to hold the skin together, then with gauze wrapped around the whole finger to keep pressure on the wound and make sure everything stayed in place.

He went back out to his shed when he was done, cleaned the blood off his equipment and the floor, then spent the next hour and a half out there—catching up on the news on his phone instead of scrolling through old texts from Merlin like he usually did when he was bored—until Freya left. He spent the whole time wishing he were with Merlin instead, even though all they could ever do was talk.


	7. The Promise

“Miss me?” Merlin said with a broad grin when Arthur met him at the bowling alley closest to Merlin’s house at the end of the week. He held his arms down and a little away from his body, palms out as if presenting himself to Arthur for inspection.

Arthur ignored the question. Truth was he _had_ missed Merlin, which was ridiculous. Arthur typically only saw him in person once or twice a month anyway, and they’d texted just about every day while Merlin was on holiday. After Arthur’s revelation earlier in the week, he’d tried to scale back the habit, but it was hard to do without alerting everyone around him that something was wrong. The few times he’d managed to restrain himself from replying to a message from Merlin for any meaningful amount of time or from popping off a quick few lines when he thought of something he wanted to share, he’d apparently had such a scowl on his face that he’d actually got comments from co-workers and Gwen asking if he felt okay. 

The whole situation was an utter disaster. So when Gwen followed through with her plan to tell Freya that Merlin should come for a visit when he got back home, Arthur had suggested they go out instead. It wasn’t that he was afraid something might happen, but he desperately wanted an activity to distract himself from his… his _feelings_ , and even more desperate for something that would distract Merlin when Arthur inevitably started freaking out. The man was far too observant for Arthur’s comfort. The last thing Arthur needed was Merlin prodding him about why he was out of sorts.

He’d needed to work himself up for their outing by telling himself that once he was back in Merlin’s company it would be easier to remember that this whole thing was one-sided. There would be comfort in that, in a way.

Arthur said, “You’re in a cheerful mood.”

He looked refreshingly chipper. That time away had really done him some good.

“I am! Can’t remember the last time I felt so energetic. You know what that means, right?”

“Dare I ask?”

“It means you’re in for the trouncing of your life, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As if by magic, the tight bundle of nerves in the pit of Arthur’s stomach that had been steadily growing for the last several hours disappeared, and he couldn’t help but laugh. This right here was one of the reasons Arthur was in this mess to begin with. Merlin had this extraordinary ability to make him feel like everything was going to be okay, no matter how bad the situation appeared to be.

“You think? Cause I bet you five quid this extra energy of yours leads to more gutter balls, not less.”

“Make it 7.50, and you’re on.”

“ _Seven fifty?”_ Arthur choked out, now laughing even harder. “Not confident enough to go up to eight, is that it?”

“Nah.” Merlin shrugged, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, they’ve got a special on at the bar. Saw a sign on my way in. If I win, you have to buy me a drink.”

It was a truly awful suggestion, because now Arthur was imagining this whole evening was a date, and as much as Arthur liked the idea of being able to take Merlin out for drinks or dinner—or a night of bowling for that matter—in a non-platonic capacity, that was not something that could ever happen for them. Despite his reservations, Arthur couldn’t refuse Merlin’s terms. That would only make him suspicious.

_Don’t freak out. Merlin hadn’t meant it like that anyway_. _It’s just a bet._

Even if it weren’t, there was nothing inappropriate about paying for a friend’s drink on occasion. This was all very normal. Very platonic. Not romantic by any standard.

“All right. Deal.”

Arthur took a seat at the end of their assigned lane and began changing his shoes while Merlin went over to the back wall to pick out his ball. Arthur was just finishing with his laces when Merlin sat down beside him.

Merlin said, “Hey, what’s this?” and grabbed Arthur’s hand, pulling it closer.

“Oh.” Arthur turned in his seat to allow Merlin a better view. “No big deal. Wasn’t paying enough attention while I was sharpening an old axe head. It’s fine now.”

Arthur hadn’t done as good of a job with his bandaging as he’d thought and the two sides of the cut had pulled away from each other somewhat, leaving a thick scab instead of a neat line, but he was several days into the healing process and there was no going back now.

Merlin turned his hand this way and that, trying to get the best view in the low light of the seating area.

“This is going to leave a nasty little scar. You should have called me. It’s a lot easier for another person to bandage your hand properly than to do it yourself.”

If anything, Arthur should have asked Gwen. That’s the sort of thing a spouse was expected to help with. Part of that better or worse deal.

“You were on holiday.”

Merlin’s frown deepened, and he looked suspiciously like he was giving serious consideration to the idea of never taking another holiday in case something like this happened again. A small part of Arthur wanted to attribute Merlin’s reaction to some sort of affection similar to what he felt, but realistically, he knew that wasn’t true. He had to remind himself that Merlin’s lack of reciprocation was for the best. Any perceived interest beyond what common courtesy called for from others must be due to his profession and nothing more.

But then, Merlin’s clinical evaluation morphed into what _felt_ like something else. He held Arthur’s hand gently, brushed the tips of his fingers around the undamaged skin surrounding the cut.

“Does it still hurt?”

Arthur’s throat went dry and his voice came out rough when he answered. “Only if I accidentally bump my hand against something.” Merlin still held onto his hand so Arthur felt compelled to continue. “And it’s not as if it’s my dominant hand, so honestly, it’s not been a bother at all.”

Merlin lowered Arthur’s hand into his lap like he forgot he was even holding it and looked at Arthur with an expression that was too easy to misinterpret as longing. The sick tendrils of temptation pulled at Arthur’s chest, begging him to lean forward, press their lips together. When that went well, as his addled brain told him that it surely would, Arthur could slide his hand up Merlin’s leg, touch Merlin the way he touched himself. Never mind that they were in public. Never mind that they were both married to other people—that Merlin was completely devoted to Freya and that Arthur would never break his vows to Gwen.

Arthur licked his lips, tried to pull his gaze away from Merlin’s with little success. This... This was a problem.

Arthur stood suddenly, pulling his hand from Merlin’s grasp as he went. He slung his left arm across his chest and pulled it tighter with his right, pretending like he needed to stretch before they started their game.

“Have I told you about my latest project yet?” Arthur said, hoping to distract from his strange behaviour.

Merlin ignored the blatant redirection. “No. I’d love to see it.”

Arthur had trouble getting his head in the game after that. Like an idiot, he kept allowing himself to indulge in the silly fiction that Merlin’s smile was especially brilliant tonight because he was with Arthur, and not simply because he was happy to be home after a restful week away. That Merlin had suggested his buy-me-a-drink idea because he wanted an excuse to draw the evening out, spend even more time together. That when Arthur felt Merlin’s eyes on him more than usual when it was his turn to bowl, it was because Merlin was admiring his arse. It was a constant battle to remind himself that if Merlin wanted him the same way that Arthur wanted Merlin, he would have noticed before now. Merlin wasn’t exactly the best liar after all, and it was awfully convenient that these thoughts only sprouted up after he became aware of his own feelings.

Merlin didn’t do much better or worse than he had last time they’d gone bowling, but Arthur’s distraction meant he had the worst two scores of his life.

Merlin rubbed his hands together in delight. “I believe you owe me a drink, Pendragon!”

“You beat me by 17 points for our first game and only 12 the second. That’s hardly the trouncing I was promised.”

“Maybe next time. Now come on, you’ve been bouncing back and forth between tense and relaxed all night. A stiff drink will do you some good.”

Merlin hadn’t said anything about Arthur’s mood until now. Arthur had been hoping that meant he hadn’t noticed.

“No, no. Don’t give me that broody look. I can see you don’t want to talk about it so I’m not going to ask.” Without waiting for a response, Merlin went over to pick up their balls from the ball return rack so that he could put them back where they belong.

Arthur let out a heavy breath, once again stunned by the way Merlin could read him so well, by the way he always knew what Arthur needed better than people he’d known his whole life.

“Merlin?”

“Hm?” He turned, the bright red ball Arthur had used today dangling from his left hand.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Merlin shifted to hold the ball with both hands while seeming to judge Arthur’s sincerity. After a moment, a shy, half smile tugged at his lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

Arthur had known that this was a sentiment Merlin wouldn’t be able to return. It was Freya that was Merlin’s best friend, not Arthur. Still, Arthur hadn’t anticipated the pain that would come from having the disparity so openly acknowledged. Even in this, though, Merlin was able to take out the worst of the sting.

“Not even when we’re both losing our wits as old men, all right?”

Arthur let out a short, startled laugh and nodded. It wasn’t in the way he longed for, but Merlin wanted them to be close for the rest of their lives. “I promise.”

Somehow it would have to be enough.


	8. The Buffer

A few hours before Merlin and Freya were scheduled to arrive for another of their routine dinners, Merlin texted saying they weren’t going to be able to make it. After the initial wave of disappointment faded, Arthur actually felt a little relieved. He wouldn’t have to try to mask his true feelings in front of all three people that could never find out. 

“Did you have an argument with Merlin?” Gwen said, a subtle hint of accusation in her tone. “You almost look glad that they’re not coming.”

“I do?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” He spun a quick lie. “I am a bit tired today. I suppose I just don’t feel like socializing.”

“Well that’s a change.”

“Is it?”

She nodded.

He tried to be as truthful as he could. “It has been nice having a friend that’s just recently got to know me. Someone who doesn’t have any preconceptions about me. Sounds strange, doesn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think I know what you mean.”

Arthur assumed she was talking about Freya, so he was a little thrown off when she said, “Did I tell you about the new teacher at work?”

“Lance, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I thought I’d be nice and take lunch with him on the first day, since he didn’t know anyone. Now, it’s become a bit of a habit. It’s just so refreshing to talk with someone like that. He’s very nice. I’m sure you’d get on with him.” She hastened to add, “And Merlin, too,” as if he and Merlin were some inseparable unit.

“You should invite him for dinner the next time Merlin and Freya come.” A buffer between him and Merlin for when Gwen and Freya inevitability left them on their own. It was exactly what he needed—something to help him get back to seeing the man as a good friend and nothing more.

Gwen gave him a warm smile. “All right. I’ll check with Freya first to make sure it’s okay with her.”

Arthur nodded. He had a plan now. This was good. Arthur didn’t notice until later that Gwen hadn’t thought to invite Lance on his own, but he didn’t put much effort into wondering why that might be.

When Lance showed up at their house three weeks later with a bottle of wine and a small bouquet of flowers for the hostess, Arthur had to take a moment. He hadn’t expected the man to be quite so… well, _fit_. But he was just as good natured as Gwen had described, and Arthur couldn’t think ill of him. He could hardly be jealous that Gwen had a new friend who happened to be attractive when Arthur was the one that was actually in love with someone else. Thinking the word still made him anxious, maybe even a little sick to his stomach when he thought on it too much, which was often. He kept telling himself this was going to be a fleeting crush. He vowed to repeat that rationalization until it was true. It wasn’t going very well so far.

At dinner, Arthur had another internal breakdown because Merlin and Lance got on amazingly well. It was starting to feel like the fact that he’d hit it off with Merlin was simply the product of Merlin being so naturally amiable and not because he and Merlin shared some sort of innate connection. And while that was a good thing— _a good thing!_ —that didn’t stop him from feeling horrible about it. He found himself watching the two of them talk and trying to decipher if there was anything different in the way Merlin conducted himself with Lance compared to how he was with Arthur.

“Don’t you think, Arthur?” Merlin said with an irritating smile.

He had no idea what he was being asked, so he went ahead and agreed.

Merlin laughed, damn him, a full, bright laugh with twinkling eyes and his head tipped back. Lance, though also amused, was trying to restrain himself.

“Merlin was just saying that you look particularly dull tonight.” Lance cleared his throat, giving Arthur a sympathetic look. “I don’t think he meant it in a cruel way.”

“Course I did.” Merlin said, but it was an obvious lie, and he turned his bright smile to Arthur again.

“Stop that,” Arthur snapped, wishing the man would be serious for a minute. That he would just break Arthur’s heart right now so that he could snap out of this… whatever it was and get on with his life, with his marriage.

Merlin frowned, scrunched up his eyebrows for a few confused seconds, then began to apologize. Arthur didn’t want to hear it. Especially because Merlin was now looking at him with an even more troubling expression. Like he would do anything if it would convince Arthur to forgive him.

Arthur got up from the table. He couldn’t take any more of this.

Merlin was chasing after him within moments. Arthur kept walking, but Merlin didn’t give up. When they were alone in the hallway, near the door to the master bedroom, Merlin grabbed his upper arm, turned him around.

“You know I was just kidding back there, right? Honestly, I would never—"

“God!” Arthur threw his hands up.

He was doing it again, with that horrible hurt look, and Arthur’s chest ached because he was the one that had put it there. And here he’d thought he couldn’t feel any worse. He heaved out a sigh.

“You should ignore me tonight. I’m just… stressed. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Except Merlin still hadn’t let go of Arthur’s arm, and the touch, simple though it was through the cloth of Arthur’s shirt, warmed his cheeks, soothed that ache in his chest.

Arthur glanced down at the point of contact, and Merlin let go, took a step back. “Sorry.” He swallowed heavily, looking guilty.

Why on earth would he look guilty? There was one reason that Arthur could think of. It was a dangerous possibility. One he did and did not want with equal vigor.

“I, uhh…” Another heavy swallow. “…should get back to Freya. It’s about time we head home.” Despite his words, he didn’t move away.

“Yeah,” Arthur said, finding himself rooted to the floor as well. This couldn’t be happening. As much as he wanted to deny it, it looked an awful lot like Merlin was having the same thoughts that Arthur was having right now. He had to be imagining it. Right? This was all just wishful thinking.

“Arthur…”

“Tell Lance I’m sorry. I’m going to lie down. I’m not feeling well rather suddenly. Tell him that Gwen and I would love to have him back. I don’t want him thinking…”

“No, I understand.”

Arthur finally turned away.

“It’s going to be all right,” Merlin said.

Arthur stopped, turned just his head to look back at Merlin.

“I mean it.” He gave Arthur a somber smile, nodded, and said, “I’ll see you later.”

Arthur probably would have believed him in the same way that he always believed Merlin when he was trying to lift Arthur’s spirits, but as Merlin turned to leave, a pair of small purple bruises became visible on the side of his collar bone where his shirt had shifted to the side. Merlin had complained of bruises before, but Arthur had never thought anything of it. Most people had a bruise or two at any given time and it wasn’t often that you remember how you got them. Now Arthur _was_ thinking about it, and he was wondering if Freya was responsible—sucking little love bites onto Merlin’s skin. The thought churned his stomach and soured his mood even further.

Arthur watched Merlin go, then went and laid down in bed. He didn’t even bother to change clothes or climb under the covers. It took him a long time to drift off to sleep, so when a shifting of weight on the bed woke him, the first thing he did was check the clock. It was past midnight, and Gwen was just now climbing into bed. At one time, that wouldn’t have seemed so late, but anymore, they were usually in bed by 10, maybe 10:30 on the weekends.

“Guests just leave?”

“Freya and Merlin left a while ago. Lance stayed to help clean up, and we got to talking. We hadn’t realized it was so late.” A pause. “He asked about their situation. He hadn’t wanted to be rude and ask them so bluntly, but he’s worried about them. And now I’m more worried too. I think we should see if there’s a way that we can do more for them. You know how Merlin’s always doing everything on his own…”

“Freya’s been doing really well lately.” Merlin would never have been willing to go on that holiday last month if that weren’t the case, no matter that the trip had been a gift.

“Has she? When I ask her how she’s been, I feel like she’s holding something back. And the way they canceled last time… Merlin could have at least come on his own to visit you if it had been just been a cold like she said.

“He worries more than he needs to. She’s the love of his life.” It was a painful truth, but one that did him good to say out loud.

“I’m not so sure it’s all Merlin. Whenever I suggest we do something in public or offer to drive her somewhere or take her to an appointment, Freya always says no. She’s never said it directly, but I think she’s afraid she’ll have another of those episodes like the first time they came for dinner.”

“They’re fine. Merlin would tell me if they weren’t.”

“Maybe,” Gwen said, obviously still not convinced, then she rolled into her usual sleeping position—on her side, facing away from Arthur.


	9. The Revelation

Gwen didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ when Merlin canceled again at the last minute—with the food already laid out on the table and growing cold. She hadn’t needed to. Her expression was clear enough.

She looked from Arthur to the table and back, said, “We won’t be able to eat all this on our own. They may not feel up to going out, but we could at least drop them off their portions. We’ll be in and out in just a few minutes. We won’t be a bother at all.”

A small, foolish part of Arthur thought it was a great plan because he hadn’t seen Merlin in weeks. The larger, more sensible part knew it was a horrible idea. Gwen was excited about doing something nice for her friends though, and Arthur didn’t want to disappoint her. He did enough of that already.

Arthur drove them to Merlin and Freya’s house. He’d only been there that once after he and Merlin had first met, but he remembered the way without needing to double check his directions.

When they arrived, the lights were on. They were clearly home, but no one answered when Arthur knocked on the door. He tried again, louder this time.

Gwen looked up at him, plastic storage containers full of food clutched in her hands. She shrugged. “Think they’re all right?”

As if on cue, a loud crash sounded from inside the house, followed a second later by a horrible, inhuman shrieking. Arthur’s stomach dropped. Freya was having another episode. Gwen’s expression went grim, clearly convinced that all her worst fears had been justified. Arthur still wasn’t so sure. The other episode he’d witnessed had been a shock, but once he understood what was happening, it was just a side effect of her illness like any other. And considering it had happened so soon after a surgery that had led to such a visible improvement to her health, he wasn’t willing to assume that this new fit was a sign that her condition was worsening. He would rely on Merlin’s judgement for that.

They should head back to the car. Merlin would want time to help Freya calm down, and Freya would want a little privacy while she recomposed herself. They could wait a few minutes and try again. He was about to suggest it when a wordless shout from Merlin, cut short by a heavy thud, pierced Freya’s continued screams. Arthur’s heart leapt into action.

“Something’s wrong.” Adrenalin flooded his veins, activating his fight or flight response. With Merlin potentially in danger, it was the fight response that won the day. Thoughts of kicking in the door like some hero from TV turned out to be unnecessary when he tried the handle and found the door was already unlocked. He barreled into the house, raced through the living room to the kitchen where it sounded like the commotion was coming from.

The kitchen was in disarray. A mess of smashed plates littered the floor, the table was overturned and resting on its side, and Freya, tiny little Freya, towered over Merlin, who was sprawled on the floor unconscious. She didn’t notice Arthur when he burst through the door, just stood there with clenched fists, looking for all the world like she was deciding how to hurt Merlin next. Arthur shoved her to the side and fell to his knees next to Merlin, began checking him over—ran his hands gently over Merlin’s shoulders, arms, torso, and legs, looking for wounds. Merlin already had bruises sprouting on his face— would probably end up with a black eye—but Arthur didn’t find anything more significant.

“Merlin! Merlin, wake up!” Arthur shook him gently by the shoulder.

When Merlin’s eyes slid open, he didn’t look confused to find Arthur leaning over him, filling his scope of vision. Before the pain set in, Merlin smiled. That bright, dangerous smile he had. The one that lifted Arthur’s spirits and made him want to pull Merlin close and kiss him. Arthur slipped his hand around to the back of Merlin’s neck meaning to help him sit up, but instead, he held Merlin there, his thumb gently stroking the skin behind Merlin’s ear without thought. He stared into his friend’s eyes, trying to make sure Merlin knew he was safe now, cared for. Merlin’s expression softened, like he knew exactly what Arthur was saying and found comfort in the unspoken reassurance. In that moment, all those damning feelings he’d been fighting the last several months didn’t feel dangerous at all. They felt right. Natural. As if this was how he and Merlin were supposed to be.

“He’ll be okay, Freya,” Gwen said.

That easily, Arthur was pulled away from his connection with Merlin. He shot a quick glare over his shoulder at Freya. Gwen was with her, a hand on her arm to remind her to stay back. Her fit was over, and she looked horrified by what she’d done. Arthur couldn’t summon up any sympathy for her.

Merlin groaned. Arthur turned back to him, noticed the way his thumb was still brushing against Merlin’s skin, and fuck! Arthur shouldn’t be touching him like this! It was completely inappropriate. And right in front of their wives! Gwen was going to see through him; he was going to break her heart. His initial reaction was to get away as fast as possible. But… but Merlin was injured. He couldn’t abandon him so abruptly. That was a valid excuse, right? He disentangled himself, trying to do it in a natural, easy fashion. Merlin wasn’t fooled. He frowned, drew his eyebrows together.

Or maybe he was just figuring out what was going on because the first thing he said was, “What are you doing here?”

Arthur took a step back before he answered, even though that meant Merlin was forced to clamber to a stand on his own. He wobbled on his feet, and Arthur longed to step in close again, hold him steady. Gwen saved him.

“We wanted to bring you dinner. Just that, but we heard… shouting.”

“You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“You’re hurt,” Freya said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad they’re here. What if I’d done something worse? I shouldn’t… I’m a danger to you.”

“No,” Merlin said. “You’re not.” He brought a hand up to his eye, winced. “This is nothing.”

Arthur wanted to scream. Of course it wasn’t nothing. Freya was right. Even if she didn’t want to be, she was dangerous.

“This is my fault. I hurt you again.”

 _Again?_ Arthur knew he should keep his mouth shut. This wasn’t his decision. He should be worried about his relationship with his wife before he worried about Merlin’s situation with his. He couldn’t do it.

“This has happened before?”

Merlin said, “no,” at the same time that Freya said, “yes.”

Merlin glared at his wife, turned to regard Arthur. “It’s nothing. I hurt myself worse with random clumsiness.”

Arthur didn’t buy the excuse. Not for a second. Realization dawned. Those bruises on his collar bone last time they’d seen each other hadn’t been love bites. He should have put it together sooner—the subtle complaints about bruises, the way Merlin always wore long-sleeved shirts, deliberately keeping his arms covered no matter how hot he was. Even when they went bowling, Merlin never exposed so much as an inch of skin above his wrists. Arthur had seen this kind of thing before, on kids at his shelter that had been abused by a parent or guardian, on battered wives who didn’t have friends or family to stay with while they waited for their restraining order request to make its way through the court system.

“Glad you’re both okay now,” Gwen said. “We’ll just set the food in the refrigerator and be on our way.” She tapped on Arthur’s shoulder to get him moving.

He didn’t budge. “Let me see your arms.”

“Don’t do this, Arthur.”

He dug in his heels because if it everything was fine, Merlin had no reason to hide. “Show me.”

“Arthur,” Gwen said, “I think it’s time for us to go.”

“Yes. Past time.” Arthur’d never heard Merlin speak so coldly. Not to anyone, and certainly not to Arthur himself.

He didn’t need to see the bruises on Merlin’s arms after that. He could imagine them well enough. He forced his expression into a stoic mask, turned away from Merlin without another word, caught Freya’s eye. She seemed to be saying to him, ‘We’re on the same side.’ He nodded and left without another word, hoping Merlin had enough sense to put ice on that eye of his before it swelled shut.

Despite his outward calm, he was too angry to drive. Gwen took on the task without asking, drove them home in silence. They didn’t speak the rest of the night.

The next day, Gwen said, “There’s not anything more we can do really. It’s not… it’s not _abuse_.”

It didn’t matter if she was right. The result was the same. Merlin was living with a woman who caused him repeated harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks go to FuchsiaTheBrave, who's lovely comments helped inspire me to get this chapter finished up and into postable shape!


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